Chapter 38

“Okay” = “I like you”

After spending the whole night researching papers on emotional expression disorders, Gu Yi rolled out of bed at six in the morning, her head precisely wedged between the bed and the nightstand, waking her up. The small space was filled with sunlight streaming across the ceiling, and the dream lingered before her eyes—she was stepping onto the ounce stage, preparing to do an open mic, but suddenly, the workers started dismantling the stage. The reason was that stand-up comedy wasn’t profitable, and Xiangyang North Road didn’t need unprofitable businesses. A voice echoed in her dream: “Do you still need a stage to tell these things? Aren’t there enough TikTok comedians?”

It was just a dream, but it made her heart race for a long time. Don’t scare yourself—ounce’s bilingual open mic is irreplaceable, and even celebrity-studded roasting variety shows are so popular now. Stand-up comedy isn’t going to disappear. After a shower, as she stood in front of the mirror, Gu Yi tilted her head and thought for a moment. The dream was a reminder that if she didn’t improve her stand-up skills, she would be eliminated by other comedians. As ounce’s famous unlucky comedian, with a recent surge in her romantic life, she might soon become an unlucky yet beautiful comedic woman, so she couldn’t slack off. Love was something that, if it came, could be embraced; if it didn’t, it could be discarded. Comedians didn’t need love.

As she walked out the door, she glanced back at the camera, seeing her shadow in the hallway, much like Liang Daiwen’s cold eyes when he scrutinized her—wasn’t it eerie how even the camera resembled its owner?

Standing behind the stage curtain, peeking at the audience, she hadn’t expected to see both Liang Daiwen and Xu Guanyue sitting in the audience. She sent a WeChat message to Yu Dule, who was checking tickets at the door: “What’s going on? Did you purposely pick this result?”

Yu Dule took a long time to reply: “I swear on heaven, I randomly picked.”

The host for this show was Yu Dule. During a transition, he teased, “The next performer is one of my very good friends. Recently, her love life has been going great—she’s being chased by two men at the same time. Yes, you heard that right, even us poor stand-up comedians get such good fortune. She used to joke that she was like gold and would always shine. Now, she hasn’t had the chance to shine yet, and the tomb raider has already come knocking. Don’t laugh too loudly, or she’ll get too puffed up.”

When Gu Yi took the microphone, her back straightened—what was there to be shy about? She was a professional stand-up comedian!

“Hello everyone, I’m Gu Yi. It’s been a while since I’ve been here because—I couldn’t draw a spot. The draw at ounce is like a lottery. When you have unrealistic hopes, you’re basically throwing away money. But you can’t stop buying tickets, because—what if one day you win, right? You, the audience, don’t give up either. Not only do you have to apply, but you also have to fill out your ID number, why you want to watch stand-up comedy, which channel Jimmy Fallon’s Tonight Show is on, what you think about comedy, what you expect from stand-up... When I see those forms, I think, ‘A group of people who know comedy better than I do are watching me perform, I can’t mess this up.’ After all, my appearance is also ounce’s business card, and it might become my long-term ticket to success—because the last time I performed here, my boss was sitting in the audience.”

“This is painful, really painful. More painful than any event I had last year. You see, when we perform in unfamiliar settings, we can act as teachers. If there’s no interaction, I can say, ‘No one? Then I’ll call the roll, ahem! You’re all going to be nervous.’ But when the boss or clients are sitting in the audience, you just can’t perform. The boss will be thinking, ‘Let me see what this kid says about me today.’ When I perform stand-up, I either talk about my misfortunes or talk bad about my boss, because this is an industry with a low entry barrier that thrives on gossip and roasting. Look at the people on our stage—film editors, new media editors, former chefs, mechanics... everyone is a contractor, eager to roast clients and bosses. Performances are hush money. I suspect that when my boss was drawn, it was because they didn’t want to pay that night.”

The jokes about P Station were made, and Liang Daiwen’s ears turned red, while Xu Guanrui’s expression froze. Gu Yi finished her joke feeling a little smug, thinking, This isn’t a place for jealousy and competition; it’s my stage for stand-up.

After the performance, backstage, Gu Yi’s phone buzzed. Liang Daiwen’s WeChat came through quickly: “Not funny.”

Gu Yi proudly snapped the phone shut.

After the show, Guan Xingxin went upstairs. The venue smelled of alcohol, with many stand-up comedians staying behind to chat about their jokes. Naturally, she attracted a lot of attention. The internet has a short memory, but because of the ambiguity between her and Yu Dule, those colorful rumors only grew more exaggerated. The comedians were polite enough, but the gaze on Guan Xingxin lingered—no one could refuse the opportunity to admire a Showa-era film poster in real life.

Just as she turned around to sit down, she saw Gu Yi sitting beside her, looking completely disillusioned. When asked why, Gu Yi pointed and said, “Do I really need to explain?”

Liang Daiwen and Xu Guanrui were vying to become qualified employees at ounce. Liang Daiwen, who had gotten along well with the bartender, was moving alcohol up and down the stairs like he had endless strength. Xu Guanrui was busy chatting with the operations manager and restocking, running around. Both of them kept glancing at Gu Yi, but Gu Yi stared vacantly ahead, thinking, What did I do to deserve this constant surveillance? I feel like a thief.

“Yeah, a heart-thief.”

This lame joke made Gu Yi cover Guan Xingxin’s mouth. “Fairy, you can be down-to-earth, but don’t go too far.”

“Isn’t it good that two men like you?”

Gu Yi leaned in and whispered, “Xu Guanrui is the boyfriend of the Great Demon Queen, Jacqueline. The Great Demon Queen has been giving me a hard time lately.”

“Isn’t that just the perfect balance? The Great Demon Queen gives you setbacks at work, and you make her love life a mess.”

Gu Yi almost wanted to applaud her. “So what you’re saying is, just let them pursue me with all their might, and I only need to choose?”

“Everyone understands this logic, they’re not married yet, it’s free love. Xu Guanrui changing his affections is perfectly normal. God gave wisdom to the world, and you just happened to open an umbrella.”

Before the conversation could continue, Xu Guanrui suddenly appeared behind them. “What boyfriend?”

Gu Yi nearly choked on her beer. “Nothing, Guan Xingxin was just evaluating Yu Dule to see if he could be her boyfriend.”

Guan Xingxin wisely stood up, giving her spot on the sofa to Xu Guanrui. With Lu Ming not there, she could openly flirt with Yu Dule today. Gu Yi didn’t understand why these two people, who often saw each other bare-chested, hadn’t defined their relationship yet. Probably, they wanted to stretch the sweetest part of their intimate relationship—ambiguity, like exploring the beautiful possibilities of love. But once you know too much, that’s when the disdain starts, even the arms meant for a hug start to hesitate. These two couldn’t possibly not understand.

Xu Guanrui was very smart. In a situation with Liang Daiwen present, he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and talked to Gu Yi only about work. On the surface, they kept their distance, but in reality, from any angle, it looked like a gentle, quiet movie scene. Yu Dule played a song, “She,” through the Bluetooth speaker. Gu Yi understood—this was giving her a chance for ambiguity—directed by Guan Xingxin.

Gu Yi could see that Xu Guanrui was exhausted. He was the type of person who needed nourishment, whether in life or work, even writing articles, passion had to come from love. When asked about his recent work, his answer was unsurprising: “I’ve been busy writing interviews. No inspiration lately. These bands are too familiar, and I don’t know what tone to use. Mainly, I’ve seen too much of their bad behavior and now I have to figure out how to elevate them.”

Gu Yi patted Xu Guanrui’s shoulder. “Comrade, hurry up and finish writing. My boss has been squeezing me lately, pretending to be nice, but actually using me as a pawn. If I don’t produce something substantial, she’s going to put me directly on the chopping block for the big boss.”

“These bosses must have some tricks. They don’t let you do content because they’re afraid you’ll grow too powerful. If you make something good and become useful to them, that’s another story.”

“Oh?”

“People in the media industry have some gray income. You should pay attention. The official Weibo of magazines sometimes posts about little-known celebrities, with low engagement, so why do clients still come to invest?”

“Advertising for artists... so you think this is also a way to charge fees?” Connecting it with what the intern had mentioned about Jacqueline’s screen being concealed, Gu Yi made the connection in her mind. She knew that Xu Guanrui was just giving her excuses, pretending to be unaware—it was a tough act to keep up.

“It can’t be too obvious. But these official accounts get paid, and they can still say they’re giving new talent exposure, subtly promoting them. But if you understand the industry, you’d know how much money is involved.” Xu Guanrui seemed to be joking, but he was conveying a harsh industry truth—the higher your position, the more hidden resources you can exchange for. No wonder Huang Wendah was trying to poach her as a partner, while Jacqueline seemed indifferent—there was so much profit to be made at Yi Zhou.

Gu Yi easily shifted the topic: “How come you’re so familiar with all this?”

“I also manage two large accounts, and I sometimes need to buy trending topics. I have the cost breakdowns.” Xu Guanrui paused before asking, “I have a question for you.”

“Go ahead.”

“Do you think I... am someone worth trusting? Not in a romantic sense, but purely as a friend—am I trustworthy?”

“Of course. It’s just that every move you make is so thoughtful and on point, like there’s a set of unwritten rules for how to interact, which makes it feel a bit inauthentic. You’d be better off keeping it real with people.”

“Keep it real?”

It sounded like something she had said to Liang Daiwen before. Gu Yi smiled as she glanced at Liang Daiwen, still busy carrying beer, completely unbothered by the task: “When you occasionally curse out musicians or organizers you don’t like in front of me, I think you’re being real. Only you would chase after a collaboration in Japan for a performance and even bring comics to the grave of a rock musician to give gifts. But most of the time, you don’t do that. Maybe you’ve worn the mask for too long, and people who don’t know you might think you’re a little slick, too good at flattering people. The truth is... you’re kind of silly.”

Xu Guanrui rested his chin on his hand, lost in thought. Gu Yi took the chance to say, “Just like the person you like, they must know how cool you are, but they just don’t appreciate it.”

The smart Xu Guanrui didn’t mention Jacqueline at all. He focused on the present: “I’m planning on saying goodbye to her.”

Gu Yi didn’t know how to respond. Xu Guanrui smiled and casually put his arm around her shoulder: “Don’t look at me like that. I’m tired of being mistreated. Who wants to be a useless afternoon tea, just there for decoration, actually treated like a rotten tooth in a sweet dessert? It’s time for me to go with my comrade and explore what it’s like to pick stars.”

After saying that, he gently pushed his ice-cold beer across the table. The bottle slid, leaving a water mark before it lightly bumped into Gu Yi’s bottle. Xu Guanrui’s romantic gestures felt a bit overconfident, full of his own poetry and sincerity, as well as a rebellious spirit ready to defy the world. As Gu Yi thought about who he meant by “picking stars,” she gracefully stood up and escaped.

Gu Yi was called over by Guan Xingxin to cut the cake. Ounce was three years old, and everyone held a small portion of the knife handle, with Yu Dule in charge of the cutting. Gu Yi, with her usual mischievous humor, said, “Yu Dule, if you cut it well, our future daughter will be beautiful.”

Yu Dule immediately hesitated: “That’s too vicious, it’s practically a curse.” Then he chased everyone holding the knife handles away and, from a distance, began to carefully cut the cake with precision. Gu Yi explained to Guan Xingxin: “Yu Dule is a hidden daughter slave. Every time Ounce celebrates its birthday, he has to pull this stunt. He always does it like this.”

Guan Xingxin smiled stiffly, her apple cheeks like two hard stones. When Yu Dule finished cutting the cake precisely, Guan Xingxin went over to distribute the slices, her fingers gentle, and she shyly smiled at the actors present. After cutting the cake, there weren’t enough plates. Guan Xingxin turned to Liang Daiwen and asked, “Would you share a plate with the little bunny?”

“No,” Liang Daiwen replied, already knowing the reason. He didn’t want the smell of saliva and sweat mixing. It was impolite to share a spoon with a girl; it all came down to that damn etiquette. Guan Xingxin said, “Oh? Little bunny, would you like to share with Xu Guanrui?”

Liang Daiwen took the spoon and plate: “Alright, let’s share.”

Xu Guanrui didn’t understand: “Does he usually act like this, complaining about you?”

“Not really.”

Xu Guanrui held a spoonful of cake in front of Gu Yi. Following his usual practice, he would typically take the opportunity to brush against her cheek, then gently lick it off, teasing Liang Daiwen in the process. This time, however, he simply pulled the spoon away. After a few attempts, Xu Guanrui said, “I’ve done a good job as your comrade, haven’t I?”

Gu Yi was genuinely angry—who wants to play tug-of-war with you guys? I just want to eat the cake; I’m hungry!

The triangular cake lay on a white plate, and Liang Daiwen scooped up a piece of cream with a spoon, bringing it to Gu Yi’s lips. Gu Yi, startled by this sudden act of feeding, felt awkward and just wanted to swallow it quickly and move on. But a bit of cream lingered at the corner of her mouth, and after a while of trying to lick it off with her tongue, it remained. Liang Daiwen said, “You’re really foolish. If your mouth were like an executioner’s guillotine in ancient times, you’d probably chop someone’s head off like a watermelon.”

Gu Yi, tired, lost her appetite.

Liang Daiwen seemed eager to try the experience of sharing the cake. When no one was looking, he took the spoon and fiddled with the cake for a while, but eventually used the back end of the spoon’s wooden handle to dab some cream onto his tongue, as if to pretend he had eaten it. When Liang Daiwen turned his head, Gu Yi had already taken a big bite from Guan Xingxin’s cake, with cream around her lips. Seeing Liang Daiwen carefully holding his cake, she felt a bit sad. He never shared much about his past experiences, and he rarely expressed himself directly. People with emotional expression difficulties often use abstract, vague, and generalized language to explain their experiences and feelings, but Liang Daiwen chose to speak around the topic.

For example, this man, at this moment, was so obsessed with cleanliness that he didn’t want to leave any flaws in her personality or be disliked, so he carefully kept his distance, suppressing his impatience while circling around her. She walked over and smeared cake on Liang Daiwen’s cheek. He instinctively moved back, but Gu Yi didn’t stop and smeared some on his nose as well. The chocolate and cream from the cake had melted together, and Gu Yi thought, there’s no need to draw clear boundaries; after all, isn’t love just like life—messy and imperfect?

Liang Daiwen didn’t say anything, but his heart was racing. After a while, he said, “I’ve been seeing a psychologist again. It seems the data from the Toronto Dyslexia Scale is improving.”

Gu Yi felt a bit excited. “How much can you perceive now?”

“Maybe about 10% to 20% of what an ordinary person can, but for me, it feels like 200%. There are still many things I haven’t figured out yet, and it’s a bit... ‘taxing.’“

No wonder his ears were turning red, a little like a teenage boy overwhelmed by the excitement of opposite-sex stimulation. Gu Yi responded, “So you’re a late bloomer. I might need to give you some extra help.”

“Extra help?” Liang Daiwen’s expression didn’t change, but his voice was full of excitement.

“Your WeChat tone needs to change. I’m not your client or a stranger. It’s rude when you only reply with ‘okay,’ ‘sure,’ or ‘we’ll talk later.’ When speaking to close friends, your expressions should be different.”

“Like what?”

“You can’t just answer me with ‘okay.’ You should say ‘sure’ or ‘yeah.’ The first one shows eagerness, and the second shows friendliness. Both are warmer than the cold ‘okay,’ and at least it makes me feel like you’re my friend. You also need to observe others’ replies more. The longer the response, the less distance there is. Uncle Lu’s script for the millennial drama—if two people in an online romance spoke to each other coldly every day, they wouldn’t even need to meet in person for the relationship to die.” Gu Yi had originally wanted to say that changing a reply from “okay” to “yeah” was essentially shifting from indifference to “I like you.”

“That’s a bit cheesy.”

Gu Yi’s face darkened. “It’s really hard to get along with someone like you, who has no expression. Because you don’t smile, I get discouraged easily. People who text coldly and argue all the time—why don’t you go work at a highway toll station doing ETC?”

After saying that, she went to dance with Xu Guanrui. Yu Dule picked a song from Carmen, moved the chairs around the room, and then stopped dancing after just a few steps to argue with someone. Gu Yi looked at the reckless Yu Dule. He was the one most obsessed with stand-up comedy. Rather than saying he had settled into this small corner, it seemed more like he was trying to reclaim the time and dignity he had wasted while doing TV shows, hoping to make up for it in an industry that wasn’t likely to make him rich.

Guan Xingxin leaned next to Gu Yi and asked, “Do you think Yu Dule likes children?”

“Yes, he’s always saying he likes daughters.”

Guan Xingxin didn’t respond.

After the event, they climbed to the sixth floor to get the keys. The motion-sensor light above them went out, and Gu Yi didn’t want to wake the neighbors. She used her phone to illuminate the lock. Suddenly, a voice from the camera above said, “Xu Guanrui is a bit slick; be careful.”

Gu Yi jumped, her hairs standing on end. She shouted at the camera, “You scared me! Doing that in the middle of the night is terrifying, okay?”

After trembling and locking the door, Gu Yi was too scared to take a shower. Liang Daiwen sent a message: “I didn’t mean to scare you, I just think Xu Guanrui is a bit clingy, and I’m worried about your safety.”

“You’re the one who’s not safe, scaring people like that in the middle of the night.” Gu Yi replied, “If you do that again, I’ll cut off the power and we’re done.”

It took Liang Daiwen a long time to reply: “Okay.”